


Hit the Bull's-Eye

by Green_Sphynx



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Disabled Lance (Lance), Disabled Shiro (Voltron), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eye Trauma, First Kiss, Healing, Hugs, Hunk and Keith are good friends, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Whump, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Permanent Injury, Physical Disability, Pining Lance (Voltron), Space Dad Shiro (Voltron), Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24216001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Sphynx/pseuds/Green_Sphynx
Summary: "We thought we lost you," Hunk all but wailed wetly into Lance's hair. "When you suddenly stopped responding - and Pidge's vitals alarms of your suit going off and everything, we thought you weredead! You can't die on us Lance, we can't do this without you!"Lance patted Hunk's arm as reassuringly as he could manage, offering Keith - the only one he could see right now - a small, lopsided smile. "Don't worry Hunk, I'm all fine. You guys got to me in time and I'm all healed up."Aside from that strange vertigo and the way his vision seemed to be narrower than usual… the way Keith seemed to be standing straight in front of him, but for some reason that didn't feelquite right.
Relationships: Lance/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 276
Collections: Lance Goes Boom





	Hit the Bull's-Eye

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this piece to the amazing works of [Seki](https://twitter.com/rustdustshuffle) for the Lance goes Boom Reverse Bang. I'm so lucky I got to work with them again, especially with their awesome concept!

It was a well known fact that things always go wrong on the easy missions.

If a mission was an easy 'hop in, grab intel, hop out' and the risk factor was practically zero, _that_ was when shit would hit the fan and someone would get hurt. It was probably because of complacency - or just sheer bad luck. The Law of Murphy had always loved low risk values to pick.

But this mission was not an easy one. No low risk - in fact, a very high risk. Such a high risk that if there were fewer lives on the line, they might've opted against it altogether.

Thing was, there was an entire galaxy about to get destroyed by the Galra, for an apparently entirely unrelated issue in the higher ranks of their army. An entire galaxy with a small dozen of planets inhabited by intelligent life, and a couple hundred with less developed life forms. All innocent of whatever crime some high Galra dude had committed.

Voltron would be able to put a stop to it by destroying one key Galra base, and after that it would be easy enough to kick the oppressors out entirely. The problem was that it was not an easy base to destroy.

So they planned and they strategised, and they worked out a bunch of contingency plans for about everything that could go wrong. Lance was, in fact, mostly one of the contingency plans, put on a safe distance from the base to give the rest of the team cover as their sniper. There was a half crumbled tower from the local civilisation at a perfect range of the base, with no remaining functional stairs or another easy way to get up. Once Lance was dropped there by the stealthed Green Lion, there was no fast way to get to him.

Even if the Galra found him, they would not be able to reach him.

And he was still careful despite that. They were not about to underestimate this mission, not even with all their safety measures. Lance was perfectly focused as he offered the support from afar that only he could.

And sure, things went wrong more often than not, so nobody was expecting this to go entirely smoothly, but a few hiccups in the plans wouldn't have to be fatal for anyone.

Which.

It wasn't.

Because Lance was very much alive, watching the puddle of blood beneath him grow, leaning over and ready to puke from the sheer pain, the shock, the splatter of the blood running down the side of the hand he had pressed to his face.

There was no way the Galra could get to him easily up here, even if they did figure out from where he had been sniping them off one by one. But the Paladins hadn't taken into account that there might be a powered down sentry stored in the crumbled, useless tower beforehand, that could easily be activated from afar to attack Lance where he sat. And despite Lance's carefulness and alertness, he was simply not expecting to be attacked from behind.

He had managed to turn away from the shot fired at the very last second, but it still hit him. From the disgustingly crunchy feeling under his hand, it had gone through his eye socket from the side. If he'd been a split second faster, an inch further out of the way, the shot would've missed or barely grazed him.

Instead, half his face felt like it was on fire, blood coming too fast, too much, and he could not even move his eye or eyelids if he tried.

He'd shot the head of the sentry off immediately, of course, but adrenaline was not willing to carry him any further than that.

Lance heaved, unsure if he was trying to breathe or trying to puke, but he needed to calm himself down. His helmet had been shot off and the team was no doubt wondering what the noise had been, why he'd gone silent.

 _He had to move_.

But he couldn't tear his one open eye away from the growing puddle of blood. He couldn't stop hyperventilating and heaving, eventually throwing up his food goo breakfast, but barely aware he did.

 _Lance needed to move and alert his team he was out for the count_.

He had one job… _one_ job. To sit at a safe distance and shoot Galra down from afar where nobody could touch him. He was the very safest of all Paladins on this mission.

_He had to move and grab his broken helmet._

__

…

Lance did not end up moving until he stumbled out of a healing pod.

Any and all pain was gone as if by magic - like in the blink of an eye, one moment was burning, confusing agony and the next was _nothing_. It was so overwhelmingly _nothing_ that it felt numb, as if under a heavy dose of anaesthetics.

Unlike the pain, there was a generous helping of vertigo present though.

The whole world seemed off balance - too heavy on the right. No, too _light_ on the left, weight _shifted_ -

Lance stumbled over his own cold feet towards the darker, less heavy side, and although there was a pair of strong arms to catch him before he fell, he ended up colliding harshly into unforgiving metal.

The apologies were almost immediate, but blurred overhead, as Lance was unable to focus on them yet. His knees knocked together, frail like a newborn calf on his feet, but the metal arm had been joined by a flesh one almost immediately and they were holding him up and steady despite the failure of his own legs.

Distantly, Lance realised it must be Shiro who caught him. He might preen about that later, when he got all his thoughts back together enough to remember Shiro was his hero. For now, he was too busy trying to make the world stop spinning.

Shiro helped him to a seat, making sure he got to sit down slowly, but Lance still didn't have the time to get everything to stop moving in front of him before he was crowded by the rest of the team.

Hunk was quick to embrace him, pillowing Lance's face sideways into familiar softness, sobbing overhead about Lance getting hurt. Pidge grabbed him from the other side, more wiry and hard angles, but just as easy to recognise by feeling alone, and just as welcome. When Lance managed to glance up without the whole world rolling over around him, it was to find Keith looking down at him more worried than he had ever seen the Red Paladin.

Shiro seemed… gone. Lance had to admonish himself for the pang of self-pity the lack of their leader within his line of sight caused, grabbing onto the arms wrapped around him with both hands to hug them back instead.

"We thought we lost you," Hunk all but wailed wetly into Lance's hair. "When you suddenly stopped responding - and Pidge's vitals alarms of your suit going off and everything, we thought you were _dead!_ You can't die on us Lance, we can't do this without you!"

Lance patted Hunk's arm as reassuringly as he could manage, offering Keith - the only one he could see right now - a small, lopsided smile. "Don't worry Hunk, I'm all fine. You guys got to me in time and I'm all healed up."

Aside from that strange vertigo and the way his vision seemed to be narrower than usual… the way Keith seemed to be standing straight in front of him, but for some reason that didn't feel _quite right_.

He reached out to Keith, only to ease his confusion, and his breath hitched in surprise when he missed the Red Paladin by almost a foot to the left.

He only now realised that this 'light' side was _really_ _dark,_ and it wasn't right, it wasn't right _at all_.

"Lance," came Shiro's typically placating voice, from that dark, absent left, and his hand was grasped in a gentle grip that certainly wasn't Keith's. Lance had to turn his head to see Shiro had been standing to his off-left all along, where he should've been able to see him.

Should've.

If he hadn't been shot through his temple, through his left eye.

Lance lifted two shaking hands to his face, feeling the gnarled knot of scar tissue over his temple, over his left eye. There was no left eye. There was just scar and crinkling skin, folding over wherever it could because there was no eye, no eyelids. There was nothing to blink, to see or to cry with.

Lance's breath hitched, his fingers digging into his flesh to find the missing eye, but _there was nothing._

_"Lance-"_

He was hyperventilating, nails longer than usual scratching at the place where his eye should be, where he should be _seeing_ from. There was _nothing there_ and it was thick, hard with scar tissue and it was nothing, _nothing_ like it should be-

All of his vision that was left was suddenly filled with Shiro, a hot strong hand on one of his shoulders, a cold hard one on the other.

" _Lance_. Focus on me. Breathe with me. There's no need to panic, just count with me, you can still breathe-"

Shiro counted, lips clearly forming each number - three in, five out, three in, five out, three in-

Lance followed instinctively - his leader, his crush. He couldn't ignore Shiro even if he tried. The result was oxygen - breath returning to him. Slower heaves of breath, but they registered, his body taking in what it needed. Shiro knew exactly what to do and it made Lance feel all the more guilty for making him help him with it.

"Sh-Shiro," he finally managed to whimper, breathlessly, and the next moment he was caught up in a warm, tight embrace. An embrace so tight it wasn't really helping his careful breathing, but it was absolutely helping his panic.

"You're alright, Lance. It's all gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine."

He was gonna be fine.

But how was he, when missing both his dominant eye _and_ his good looks? What did he have if he couldn't aim his gun or teasingly flirt?

What did Lance have to offer to this team without his left eye?

…

Not much, Lance concluded later.

Allura had helped him out a little, instructed him on how his bayard would adapt to his new 'condition' and provide a way to aim with the same accuracy as before with just his right eye. Thing was, he would have to _learn_ how to use it, and that was a lot easier said than done.

He'd been in the training room for hours, and where before he'd have nine out of ten bull's-eye shots. He hadn't been able to get _any_ now.

His left eye had always been his dominant eye, and even with the extensive new interface to adapt to his right eye aiming, he just _couldn't_ aim like before.

He was _useless_.

Lance cursed vehemently under his breath, letting his bayard shift to the gun it had originally formed for him rather than the precision sniper he had been training with, and _fuck trying_ , he shot a wave from right to left like it was Hunk's blaster in his hands, not even attempting to aim. Some shots hit the targets, but not half as many as Lance would have liked.

With another curse he dropped his bayard to dangle in one hand, instead turning to give a hard kick against one of the blocks that had been his practice cover. The pain vibrated up his leg like he just kicked a bell, a dull bruising pain remaining in his foot for his trouble.

He stood frozen, one fist clenched on his bayard, the other wringing so tight he felt the bones in his hand creak, but like this, with his teeth gritted together, he could stop himself from crying out in pain at the stupid - _stupid, idiotic, useless_ \- pain in his foot that he just caused himself.

He was _such_ an idiot. Might as well shoot himself in the foot too, while he was at it.

"If I can actually hit it, anyway," he muttered bitterly to himself.

"Lance?"

Lance jumped, this time not holding back his loud squawk in surprise. With a sharp turn of his head Shiro appeared in a doorway - a doorway that had been there, right there in his line of sight, but he hadn't seen it. _Because a blind spot on top of the narrowed vision was exactly what he needed._

"Quiznak- Shiro! When did you get here?" He gave a nervous little laugh and waved his bayard up above the cover blocks for Shiro to see. "I was just getting some practice with my new visor interface, but if you want the training room I can leave? I shouldn't get too good too fast or I'll make Keith jealous, right?"

Shiro didn't even have the decency to _glance_ at the targets too see how sub-par Lance's aim had been this session, just gave him this profoundly sad look for a moment before finally approaching.

He snapped before his own brain caught up with him. "I don't need your pity, I have plenty of it myself."

 _Shit_ , and that was _not_ something he wanted to be hissing so venomously at Shiro, the man who was his personal hero as well as his leader, not to even _start_ on the deeper feelings he harboured for the man.

Lance averted his eyes with a badly hidden cringe at his own stupidity, but Shiro's warm hand found his shoulder for a gentle squeeze, and when he spoke he didn't sound upset at all.

"Regret and pity are not the same thing, Lance. It's our- _my_ fault that you got hurt, that you now have to learn and adapt around a handicap in the middle of a war-"

"Wait, wait." Lance squinted up at Shiro in confusion, lightly touching his chest to make sure he was standing as close as he thought before shuffling half a step closer. "How is this _your_ fault, exactly?"

"Not checking that tower for any Galran weaponry before leaving you there by yourself without backup was a grave oversight in our planning-"

"-planning for which I was present and actively contributing myself," he interrupted sharply, again, "just like the rest of the team. None of us thought of doing anything but a scan for signs of life or active machinery, not just you."

"As the Black Paladin, I am the one who is responsible in the end."

"Oh, that's bullshit, Shiro." Lance gave him a shove against a shoulder - slightly too far to the side, but neither of them acknowledged that. "We made that plan as a team and it's not your fault as our leader that you're not all-seeing and able to make every plan ever go perfectly. The plan was fine, it was my own fault for not being more aware of my surroundings." Even if he had been pretty aware of his surroundings. He knew how he could often get so consumed into a task that he forgot about the world around him, so he had made sure to keep paying attention.

Just… not enough, clearly.

"It wasn't part of your job to be watching your own back." Shiro rubbed a hand down his face with a sigh, but he looked more fond and less like he was blaming himself for Lance's injury.

Lance doubted he'd be getting Shiro to smile first right now, so he would take this as the win he could get. He offered a wry smile of his own and lifted his bayard to tap the blaster in his hand, ready to move on and get back to his fruitless practice.

"So we'll keep this as a lesson for next time we make such a big, fool-proof plan, alright? Although I can't promise fewer _oversights_ from my end from now on."

And well, maybe he got more of a win out of this conversation than he thought, because Shiro snorted a laugh and then proceeded to look absolutely horrified - whether at the noise or the morbid humour, Lance didn't know.

Either way he offered a bright grin, because Shiro's laugh was the best cure for any bad mood no matter why or when, and then turned himself back to the shooting targets with a deep intake of breath to steel himself.

He was going to be useful to the team again, even if it was the last thing he did.

…

_Lance had never felt so helpless in his life._

There were Galra sentries all around them, guns cocked and ready while streaming down from the doors and windows to rush Shiro in the middle of the room. Lance was situated safely above them, perched in plain sight on a ledge between two windows but ignored by the sentries as if he were invisible.

They were all going for Shiro.

All of them, all at once.

Shiro was doing a great job of holding them at bay, jumping and sliding and flipping as if he was raised an acrobat, his Galra arm lit in bright burning purple and cutting through sentries like paper. They fell with two or three at a time, Shiro's fighting elegant and still efficient, but they were coming down in droves.

Shiro would not be able to keep up like this.

Lance lifted his bayard, his hands shaking slightly on the blaster. He should be able to take down a bunch of these sentries long before they got to Shiro, especially the ones coming from above, but… but he wasn't.

He wasn't shooting.

It was stupid, dangerous, _pathetic,_ because Shiro was down there fighting for his life, but Lance was afraid to shoot because he was afraid he'd miss. There were so many sentries he could barely see the wall or floors but _he would miss, he wouldn't be able to hit his mark-_

"Lance-!"

Shiro's voice was almost shrill with alarm, with his need for Lance to help him. Lance had never heard him like that before and it shook him to his core, like nails scratching down chalkboard, like _the sound of someone crying out knowing they were about to die._

Lance _had_ to help him.

Even if he missed, he could not take the risk of _not_ helping. Shiro needed him, called for him - even if Lance was certain he'd miss, Shiro still trusted him to save him.

So he slowly took aim, trying to make his hands stop shaking - stop _shaking stop it_ \- aiming at the window across of him that had most sentries piling out like water from a pipe. It was high above Shiro and far to the left, so even if Lance missed his shot it would be fine, he could try again.

Shiro was counting on him.

"Lance! Lance!"

Shiro was slowly disappearing from view, sentries swarming over him like ants.

_He had to save Shiro._

"Please," Lance whispered against nothing, and pulled the trigger.

The usually muted zap of his blaster's shots was as loud as an explosion this time, and everything froze. The sentries stopped where they stood - or hung, even mid-air with no support - but Lance didn't see them, _he couldn't see them even though they were everywhere, because there was only one thing he could see and that was the hole in Shiro's chest that he, the one Shiro had called out to for help, had just shot in there, blood blooming around it like a morbid flower of death._

Lance dropped his bayard from his numb fingers with a scream tearing from his throat-

…

-and fuck, _quiznakking_ bleeding _fuck_ , his throat hurt with the scream like he was gurgling glass and before he knew what was happening he landed on the floor with a hard thud, bedsheets twisted around his ankles and cold sweat making his hands slip where he tried to catch himself.

"Lance?! Lance buddy, are you alright?" Lance looked up disorientated, seeing Hunk rush into his bedroom towards him but it was _twisting, twisting, twisting-_

He slapped his hands over his eyes to make the spinning stop, almost retching at the scar tissue on one side reminding him just why the sudden movement had him so dizzy.

Not the nightmare itself. The nightmare itself was bad enough to have him shaking and needing too long to remember that Shiro _was okay, he didn't kill Shiro, there were never any sentries attacking them_ but the _problem_ was that he'd dreamt the nightmare with two eyes.

He choked down a sob, pressing hard into Hunk's embrace to ground himself. The sight of Hunk had somehow felt more like a dreamscape than the actual dream, with the limited vision he had now. It was like he had watched his friend approach through a tunnel, and the only reason he knew this was reality was the scar on his face and the arms of Hunk squeezing him to his chest.

"Hey, it's okay, it was just a bad dream, buddy." Hunk freed a hand to gently pet Lance's hair, and Lance's breath hitched sharply.

_It was just a bad dream. He was fine._

"Y-yeah," he stammered, needing to clear his throat to lose the tingling feeling remaining from the scream he woke with. "Yeah, it was. I'm-I'm fine now, thanks Hunk. Sorry for disturbing you."

He got a friendly nudge to his shoulder for that, but Hunk let go of him to give him a good look while he finally opened his eye, blinking rapidly against the odd _wrong_ view. "You didn't disturb me, Lance. Being there for my best friend isn't a _chore_."

Lance offered up a shaky smile. "Yeah, yeah I suppose. I'm fine now though, so…"

"Want me to stay here with you to go to breakfast together?"

"No! No you- go and get breakfast started. Don't want Pidge to get there when there's no caffeine in the air yet, right?" He tried to chuckle as light-hearted as he could manage, shaken as he still felt, and Hunk gave him a very doubting look before finally getting up to his feet.

"Alright, Lance, if you're sure… I'll see you at breakfast then."

"I'll be right behind you!" He shooed Hunk away with one hand, waiting for the door to close behind him before sagging and groaning, resting his head in his hands again.

That nightmare was _not_ a good way to start the day.

He took a little more time than he liked to admit to just sit there and calm his breathing, allowing his arms to limit his vision to nothing but his lap so he could adapt a little easier to the lack of peripheral range - or he hoped it was easier this way, he hadn't exactly had the time to try different methods yet - and only when he was sure his heart wasn't going to beat itself right out of his chest in a panic anymore, he carefully lowered his hands and raised his head.

Just his room, the same as always. No Shiro bleeding out on his floor or Galra sentries swarming over the floor and walls. Just… _less_ of it than before.

Lance groaned to himself again and finally heaved himself up to his feet using the side of the bed. He should just forget about that stupid, disturbing nightmare and pretend he never saw something so ridiculous, pretend it didn't affect him at all. Just be normal.

Only his 'normal' didn't get him further than the door to his attached bathroom, the door automatically sliding open on his approach but the door post not moving out of his way as he smacked into it with his shoulder hard.

He cursed to himself, grabbing his shoulder and feeling it throb already. _That was going to bruise and be a serious pain in training._

With a glare at the door post for good measure, he got into the bathroom properly this time, putting extra care in his aim whenever he moved or tried to grab something. He hit the sink with the back of his hand at some point but the rest went perfectly well - because he wasn't some invalid, for fuck's sake - and he left his room for breakfast with a grin to spite the universe and today's bad luck.

And okay, maybe he didn't sound quite his usual, peppy self when he wished everyone a good morning on entering the kitchen, but it wasn't like anyone was going to judge him for that on his second day of having a grossly mangled eye socket instead of a left eye.

He knew it was gross. He saw himself in the mirror and he saw Pidge's slight cringe of surprise as she looked up when he entered, and he _definitely_ saw that look on Hunk's face that was like, an upgraded version of his pity look when Lance woke up with a giant pimple on his face and he was anticipating Lance blowing up about it.

But his morning had been bad enough as it was so he pointedly ignored all that - they were both polite enough not to stare or look too disgusted with how he looked now - and made a beeline for the pot of caffeine-liquid Hunk prepared them first thing in the morning. It wasn't coffee, it was in fact a deep blue-ish violet colour, but it contained actual, real caffeine and that's all the humans of this team were asking for.

Hunk was already reaching for the pot to pour Lance one in the last empty cup pre-set on the counter, but Lance quickly grabbed for the handle himself to cut Hunk off.

"Good to see Pidge didn't finish it all yet," he joked, so Hunk wouldn't take it as a slight when he just wanted to be helpful - a nice thought, but Lance didn't need coddling.

…and then he promptly poured the remaining contents of the pot onto the counter, right next to the cup.

There was a painfully long beat of silence, everybody frozen as the liquid poured out of the pot and onto the counter top, splattering and spreading and then gushing over the edge - and then two people sprung to action at the same time.

Hunk lunged for the pot in Lance's hand to tilt it back upright, even though there was barely anything left inside at that point, while his other hand darted out for the kitchen towel he had tucked under his belt whenever he was working in the kitchen.

While Hunk was already halfway attacking the spillage, Shiro's hands found Lance's, tugging him away from the mess and taking the now upright pot from his hand. The pot was placed on the counter somewhere randomly, neither Shiro nor Lance actually looking at it, because Shiro was drawing Lance ever closer, further away from the messy counter that was about to send him straight into a panic attack over _how he could possibly fuck up so bad, so stupidly-_

"It's fine Lance, it's fine." Shiro released his hands just to cup Lance's face, forcing him to keep eye contact. "It's _fine. You're_ fine. Hunk will get that; nobody is going to judge you for such a small slip-up when you still have so much to adapt to in your new circumstances. Remember when I first woke up in Keith's shack in the desert after you guys saved me from the Garrison's misguided intentions? I didn't know the strength of my own Galra arm even though I must've had it for months, but none of you gave me any funny looks about tearing through not one, but _two_ of Keith's shirts before I managed to dress myself. This is no different from that, okay? You need time to get used to having one eye instead of two, and nobody expects you to be perfect at it straight away, nobody's going to laugh at you or think any less of you, so there's no need to panic now."

Lance had… no idea Shiro could go into a rant like that, but it was mesmerising somehow to his shocked, dulled state after this terrible start of a day he had, and he let himself be lulled by the voice he loved the most. What Shiro was saying made sense… he wouldn't normally go that easy on himself when he made stupid, idiotic mistakes like pouring a drink all over the counter instead of the cup, or running into a doorway or hitting the sink- but Shiro brought up himself and the trouble he'd clearly had at the start, and Lance couldn't _fathom_ the idea of making Shiro feel bad about that.

So… that meant he wasn't allowed to judge himself for this either, he supposed. No matter how much he wanted to beat himself up for it, Shiro made a good point.

He nodded dumbly, and the smile that broke out on Shiro's face in response was brighter than any star Lance had ever seen. It was like the sun breaking through the clouds, and he couldn't look away.

And when several doboshes later Hunk put his cup of the caffeinated drink in his hands, freshly brewed and steaming hot, he could still not look away. He may have been embarrassed to stare, but with only one eye, all he was able to focus on was Shiro, and Shiro alone.

…

One thing that absolutely did not get easier over time was the dreaming.

It wasn't even the nightmares, specifically. Sure they were no fun - and oh, Shiro and Hunk would scold him for understating it like that, but his nightmares were mostly about ominous presences sneaking up to him from behind to kill him and while it was terrifying, he preferred being jumpy about anything approaching him from where he couldn't see over having to face the nightmares where his own handicap caused him to kill Shiro. It was easier to convince himself not to be such a baby if it was a nightmare about intangible boogeymen.

No but, as nasty as the nightmares were and as much as they weighed him down for hours after waking up sometimes, what _really_ messed him up was that all his dreams were always with the sight of two eyes.

He would wake up and his room wouldn't look _real_. Everything seemed flat, without depth, like someone was holding the one-dimensional backdrop of a low cost theatre in front of him. It was disconcerting every morning again.

He hated, _hated,_ how he started every new day staring at his ceiling trying to figure out if it was real. How every morning again he sat up and looked around his room and needed time just to ground himself, to focus on objects that seemed fake to determine if they were truly as flat as they looked, to decide whether he dared to reach out and see if it was still standing at the distance it always had, or if it was a flat image right in front of him after all.

It messed with his _head_ and it messed with his reaction time to the Castle's alarms going off, unable to just jump out of bed and get going because what if the floor was not at the same distance it always was? What if the room wasn't real to begin with?

Rushing this agonising process also invariably had him run into the first door post he tried to get through, and honestly, the bruising of his left shoulder seemed to be pretty permanent at this point.

"Quiznakking Castle with this quiznakking white interior," he grumbled to himself, his own voice grounding him where his vision nowadays failed.

But the floor was still where it always was, and he'd danced this depth-less tango often enough to not hit the doorway to his bathroom or his sink anymore. He fumbled with his skin care products less often since he'd become very particular about the exact spot they were standing, needing less of his poor visual estimate of the distance to pick each item up in one go and relying more on his muscle memory doing that work for him.

Unfortunately, that didn't cover things he didn't do as often in his morning routine, and things that really required him to _see._

Lance was pretty happy he didn't need to shave every day, or even every other day. He'd been embarrassed before about only needing to get rid of some baby fuzz every week at this age, but at this point he was just grateful that it was a task he didn't have to suffer every damn morning again.

The first time after losing his eye he hadn't dared to approach his own face with a razor, and thank the universe for Hunk, his best friend helped him out.

Second time… this was the second time, he had been putting it off but it was necessary. And he was sick and tired of needing to depend on Hunk for stupidly easy and small tasks all the time. He could shave himself - it was his _face,_ he wouldn't need to worry about not knowing how far away it was. And the Altean razors weren't actually even dangerous, he wouldn't be able to cut himself if he tried.

Only good reasons to not wimp out this time, he would be fine.

…which… was not a _lie_ , per se. He didn't cut himself. But getting the left side of his face all the way to the end of his jaw was a whole lot easier said than done.

But he did it, frustrating or not, and when he finally walked into the kitchen he could offer Hunk and Keith there a victorious grin.

"Good morning! Is it just you two here yet? I was faster than I expected." He pointedly slid his fingers over his jaw and winked at Hunk to draw his friend's attention to his freshly shaved skin.

That he did himself.

Quiznak, he felt like a loser for being so proud of that.

"Hey, buddy, you're early!" Hunk beamed at him from his spot over his sizzling food goo pancakes, and almost looked straight back down at what he was doing before the double take came, eyes widening. "Wow, Lance, did you shave yourself? I would've done it for you, you shouldn't risk hurting yourself-"

"Nuh-uh, shush there." Lance nearly poked Hunk an eye out when he went to put a finger to his lips - and why did he even do that, was he an idiot? - but with a quick dodge and a fumble they both recovered and proceeded like nothing happened, Keith and his watchful eyes on them included. "The Altean razors are super safe, unlike pretty much everything else on this ship. And I know where my own face is even without depth perception, so no worries, I can take care of myself!"

He grinned proudly again, and Hunk returned it now his worries were eased - only for his smile to twitch as his eyes slid over Lance's jaw.

"Oh uh, yeah, it's all okay if you're safe doing it yourself, uhm… You missed a bit uh, right here…"

Hunk looked _guilty_ pointing at a spot on his own face, which would've been enough to make Lance feel bad even if he wasn't apparently walking around like a moron with a hairy patch on one cheek.

"Fuck," he cursed, quickly slapping a hand over it - and yes, there was still hair there, right where Hunk had indicated. "I was sure I got everything - oh for the love of, that _quiznakking_ blind spot _keeps_ fucking me over, I swear!"

He glanced at Keith quickly, worried for a comment - even if he knew better, even if it had long been established that Keith happily bickered with him but never ever touched the subject of his _handicap_ when it came to their little rivalry, more supportive than Lance could ever have expected in fact - but Keith was only frowning, no longer leaning casually against the counter with his caffeine drink cradled between both hands, but looking halfway ready to approach.

"I'll just uh, go fix it real fast-" Lance backed away with an awkward chuckle, but Hunk quickly grabbed his wrist to stop him.

"Dude, no, if you couldn't see it before then you can't see it if you try again, and you'll just get frustrated and end with cold pancakes. Keith can do it real quick right now and nobody will have to know."

"What, Keith is carrying a razor around now?" It was meant as a joke, but Keith promptly produced his Marmora blade from… _somewhere,_ and Lance blanched. "Okay, you know what? I actually really like living, so maybe I'm gonna pass on letting Keith put a knife to my face-"

"Oh, don't be such a baby, Lance." Keith rolled his eyes and stepped closer - and shit, Lance had thought he was further away for some reason - and without waiting for Lance to continue his protests he grabbed Lance's chin and angled it, bringing his blade up. "Hold still for just a second and it'll be done."

Lance froze, less worried about Keith cutting him on purpose and more worried to be cut by accident if he moved now, and Keith moved his blade over Lance's face with one precise flick before already releasing him again.

"There, that was all. Now you can get back to boasting how you shaved yourself when Shiro comes in."

And if Lance felt weirded out by Keith's help, well now he felt _really damn embarrassed,_ and he tried to splutter a protest about how Shiro had nothing to do with this, but even without getting it out like a full sentence he got a dead-pan look from not just Keith, but Hunk as well for his trouble.

_Traitor._

Keith went back to where he left his drink, leaning against the counter as casually as before and wiping his blade with a kitchen cloth like nothing strange had happened. Hunk finally laughed and gave Lance a good-natured nudge with his elbow.

"Keith got just as many protective brother things going on for Shiro as the other way around, just pay attention and you'll see it."

"You told him?" Lance couldn't help sounding a bit bitter now. He'd trusted Hunk to not blab around about his not-so-little crush on Shiro - in fact, Hunk had _promised_ he wouldn't. Even if that was way back at the Garrison, before the whole Kerberos mission even, Lance was pretty sure it still counted even if they could never have expected to end in a situation like this in space with Shiro.

"I'm not _blind,_ Lance," Keith noted flatly. "I don't need Hunk to tell me that you're constantly making moon eyes at Shiro." There was a beat of silence in which he seemed to realise that was a very poor choice of words, _twice_ in a row, but then he cleared his throat and charged on, flustered or not. "And- and Shiro may not have noticed it yet, but he's got a massive soft spot for you so I'm watching you, Lance." He gave a small glower through his bangs that would be scarier if he wasn't flustered from the verbal slips. "Hurt him and I'll come cut off your dick in your sleep."

Lance opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again, letting Keith's words sink in. Hunk was… suspiciously silent - and was that a smile? That was definitely a small smile on Hunk's face!

Lance let a grin pull on his lips in realisation. "Oh, Keith, I'm so glad you approve!"

"I do not-!"

"Keith approves of what?" Shiro walked in right with Pidge, freezing Keith on the spot with his outburst, and Lance's grin grew even wider.

It was easy to slip into teasing Keith, easier than anything was these days, and if their banter had Shiro smiling instead of scowling like back when their bickering was still malicious, well, that was always Lance's win.

…

It was his win at breakfast, but it didn't feel like a win anymore after two vargas in the training room shooting targets.

His aim had improved massively in two weeks and with still targets he was almost back to his old accuracy. Moving targets, however… those were really not half as easy as they used to be. Especially if they were also attacking Lance, or it was more than one target moving about, he just _couldn't_ get it right, sometimes even completely failing to notice some.

And two vargas was long enough for his mind to dwell back on what happened that morning, even between the bursts of bots popping up left and right to keep him on his toes.

While he truly appreciated the intent Keith and Hunk had with the whole shaving thing… they hadn't given him a chance to do it himself at all.

It felt silly, but for some reason it just didn't sit right with him that they'd just… taken the matter in their own hands and had done it for Lance, no questions asked. Not that Lance put that much value in the act of shaving himself - he hated it, actually - but it was something he had done _himself. Without_ needing Hunk to hold his hand and lead him through it.

He wished he could've finished it himself too.

He wished they had given him a chance to be more independent again.

He wished he got less distracted thinking about something so insignificant, because suddenly there were not one but _two_ training bots right on top of him, and one had already knocked his bayard from his hands with its staff before he could react, the other ready to strike a second later.

Lance ducked and shielded his head with his arms, but rather than a harsh blow from the staff there was a loud clang of metal on metal.

"End training sequence," Shiro's voice ordered firmly from above him. "Lance, are you alright?"

"I had that handled," Lance muttered sourly, and Shiro blinked at him for a moment, eyes wide in surprise, before his expression softened to a smile.

"Maybe, but if you're going to get yourself all bruised and battered anyway, there's more useful training you could be doing it with."

"There are more and less useful ways for me to get my arse handed to me?" As Lance clambered back to his feet he tried to offer Shiro a small smile to make it sound joking, but it probably looked more like a grimace, annoyed as he still was. He had to remind himself that it wasn't Shiro's fault he was upset, and luckily it was impossible for him to stay angry with Shiro - _be_ angry with Shiro - so he took a deep breath to calm himself.

Shiro did not deserve his bitching.

"Lance."

Shiro's voice was soft, careful, so much that it startled Lance into quickly looking up at his leader again. He wasn't sure what expression he'd find there, but Shiro's face was unreadable - and that didn't make Lance feel any less anxious about that tone of voice.

Was Shiro finally going to tell him the team didn't need him anymore, that they proved they were fine without Lance these days? Or was he going to tell Lance he had to work harder, troubled trying to figure out how to say it without hurting Lance's feelings? Or maybe he was even going to give him a talk about the team complaining about him being too dramatic or too clumsy or-

"We need to talk about how you're doing - and I don't just mean the physical parts and your training." Lance was taken off guard by the topic, and the unreadable expression on Shiro's face made place for a small amused smile. "Seeing the training results you got just now, your progress on those is almost _too_ fast. Which is why I worry about how you're holding up emotionally. You were fighting like an angry Keith just now, and I'm used to seeing you much more level-headed - well, when you don't have someone around to show off for anyway."

The amused smile was almost a fond grin for a moment before he looked serious again, and Lance missed the smile instantly. "So tell me what's going on, what has you upset? Did someone on the team say something to you?"

Lance whined in protest - because really, that's the most protest he could really offer against a direct order from Shiro. He didn't want to throw his friends under the bus, but more than that, he didn't want to lie to Shiro.

"It's just… I dunno, I'm just overreacting like I do, I guess." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, not used to acknowledging that much. "Hunk and Keith helped me with something this morning but it's not sitting right with me. I shouldn't complain, they were just helping and definitely meant no harm."

"Did you _want_ their help though? Or did they force their help on you?"

Lance looked up, wide-eyed and surprised, not expecting that response from Shiro at all, let alone in such a serious voice. Wasn't he supposed to _embrace_ any and all help he could get? He was one eye short of his usual abilities, and he knew he should be doing anything to correct for that - didn't that include all the help the team was willing to offer?

Shiro sighed, obviously trying not to sigh too deep, but still placing both hands on Lance's shoulders, as if to ground this conversation, anchor it between them.

"Our situations may not be the same, but that doesn't mean I have no idea what you may be going through. The moment I first woke up after the memories I lost in Galra captivity I had this arm and knew how to use it. I found out later that I know how to use it as a weapon, and it has never truly inhibited me past the first few bits of fumbling where I had to regain my muscle memory. I don't actually _remember_ losing my arm, or having it replaced by weaponised Galra tech, or even adapting to using this new arm."

"But that doesn't mean I didn't experience the confusion, the _disassociation,_ when waking up to it and somehow using it. It doesn't mean I got to skimp out on the phantom pains, the nightmares, or even the regular, pleasant dreams where I somehow still have both my real arms. Losing an eye is different from waking up without the memory of an arm being replaced by alien tech - but that doesn't mean I don't understand how you may feel."

Shiro took a deep breath, as if needing to steel himself before continuing. His hands squeezed on Lance's shoulders, and it was all he needed to do to keep Lance silent, waiting for him to proceed with a building sense of dread and guilt.

"I can understand how it feels to have help forced upon you. And one doesn't need to be violent to _force_ , it's just a matter of not waiting for consent. Keith did this those first days, helping me with things as if I didn't know my Galra arm yet, without asking. He meant no harm, he meant _well,_ but I never felt comfortable with it. I felt like I should be able to do things myself."

"And most things I _could_ do myself, because whatever happened during that year that I barely remember, it had me get used to this new arm and get used to it being _my own."_

"But your situation is different - you didn't get a convenient memory gap where you lost a limb and gained another. You lost an eye, and are going through adapting to your new circumstances and your new abilities _consciously_ , unlike me. All the help that they give you, welcome or not, is a part of your healing process. You can be upset about getting too much help, as much as you can be upset about getting too little. The key to all this is that you learn how to communicate it to the ones you care about."

Lance swallowed heavily - gulped, really - trying to suppress the tears he felt pressing in his one eye. The thickness in his throat, the pressure in his eye - he wished he wasn't crying in front of Shiro but shit, Shiro was perfect and he was telling him exactly what he needed to hear after all his inner turmoil today.

"I-I shaved… but I missed a spot, couldn't see it - it was in the blind spot of my one eye… Hunk pointed it out, and then Keith helped me get rid of what I missed - but I worked _so hard_ shaving myself. It was really, _really_ hard to shave myself with only one eye to see all around my face, and clearly I _couldn't_ see it all but I tried so hard to do it-it all by m-myself-"

He couldn't feel any more pathetic breaking down like this, but Shiro pulled him into a hug, one hand gently rubbing up and down the back of his head, the other keeping him close with a hand pressing between his shoulder blades. It was warm and comfortable and _exactly_ what Lance needed right now.

"You did great, Lance," Shiro praised him softly, drawing another sob out of him. "And you know Hunk and Keith meant well when they helped you, and they'll regret it when they find out it upset you. All you have to do is tell them how their unsolicited help made you feel, and it will make all three of you grow, it will make all of you better and bring you a step further in your recovery. You have nothing to be ashamed about, you hear me? You've done good Lance, and I know you'll take the next step just as well."

Lance sniffled loudly - too loudly, but it was hard to suppress his feelings while enveloped in Shiro's safe embrace. "O-okay, I-I will. I'll talk to them."

"Good." For a moment it felt like Shiro pressed a kiss to the top of his head, but it ended as soon as it started and Shiro let him go from the tight embrace, only keeping his hands on Lance's shoulders to keep him at arm's length, looking mildly flustered by all the tears and emotions. "Now, let's make you feel a little better first, alright? Your shooting has gotten spectacularly good in the little time you've been training, so let me see how much you still need in close combat, hm? I've been looking into the details of the depth perception that comes with a single eye, so I think I can offer you some pointers depending on how far you already got by now."

Lance offered a watery attempt at his classic cheeky grin, stepping back to materialise his shield on his one gauntlet and his smaller, faster blaster in his other hand with his bayard. "Alright then, teach me how to defend myself, _Sir_!"

And Shiro, well… he may be gentle and caring about the team's emotions, but when Lance left their training session he was a lot wiser about his limited depth perception, and even more about how many bruises he could fit on one body.

…

Lance settled himself carefully, one arm resting right on the edge of the ledge he was half hidden behind, hand clenched stabilising under the length of his bayard-turned-sniper rifle. For a moment he considered setting it up straight on the ledge, just in case his hands would tremble too much for the auto-stabiliser to correct, but then Shiro's hand found his shoulder to give it a reassuring squeeze and he opted against it.

It would take more time both to set up and to aim with the restriction of it, and time was what they didn't have all that much of right now. His hands would just have to… _not_ tremble. That's all.

_Fuck._

In his nervousness he started to line up to aim based on old instinct - _wrong side, fuck, it's the wrong side -_ and almost dropped his rifle altogether in his fumble to correct that in the vain hope Shiro hadn't noticed.

The hand on his shoulder squeezed again, and Shiro leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Take it easy, Lance. There is no pressure, okay? If you hit the mark it will conclude the mission instantly, but that would be a _bonus,_ not a _requirement."_

They'd been over this in detail, so really, Lance knew the drill.

The whole mission had been planned out safe and secure _without_ Lance sniping the Galra general right at the start of it. When he had suggested that he could do it, the whole team had balked at the idea of him in the field and sniping already, even Allura.

She had argued vehemently that it was not safe for him to be there so shortly after his injury (it had been _phoebs,_ and they were just fine with him getting out there in his lion too), and that his recovery of his skills had been remarkably fast, this shot would be too much, too far in a too short time frame (he'd already proven he could in the training room repeatedly). She even went so far as implying his presence would distract the rest of the team by making them worry he'd get hurt again.

Shiro had come to his rescue though, managing to change the plan with just a few small changes so that Allura's worries would no longer be problems. No safety issues for Lance if they stationed him on the spot Shiro was going to enter the base from anyway; all the team set and ready for instant response in the case the shot did go wide, so even very little of their surprise advantage would be lost.

'It would be great for the team's morale to have Lance back in the field,' he had argued.

It would be great for _Lance's_ morale if he could do this, do more than fly his lion with that strange out-of-body feeling where he was watching through her eyes - _both_ of her eyes - and stay there all safe and sound while his friends risked their lives without him.

If he could do this, he wouldn't feel so useless anymore. He wouldn't feel like such a burden anymore.

Thing was… sitting here, finding the right aim for the window where the general would be passing by soon, he suddenly wasn't so sure anymore that he really _could._

He had never practised with a distorting barrier like glass, not with only one eye. And it was really kinda far away, the window small enough that he would really only have a split second to shoot while the general walked by it.

And sure, it wouldn't be a problem for the mission if he missed… the team was poised and alert to spring into action if he did, and complete the mission according to the original plan. They were set with the _assumption_ Lance would miss - not because they didn't trust him to hit his mark, but because that's what their job was right now.

Nothing would be lost if he missed - except for his own, currently very fragile sense of self-worth.

It was too difficult.

He hadn't sniped _anything_ outside the safety of their training room since losing an eye, and this was a _really tough shot._

He couldn't do it and Shiro was right here to watch him fail.

Lance stopped his attempts to aim to nervously fidget with the edge of the eye patch Coran had provided him for the mission, as protection for the sensitive scarring underneath. He felt he looked ridiculous with it, but it did serve as decent protection and most of the ugly scarring was hidden, making him look more pirate, less _mangled._ Shiro seemed to have appreciated it.

Would Shiro still look at him the same way as when he first saw it after Lance fucked this up?

Would Shiro regret sticking his neck out to get Lance included in this mission when Lance proved Allura had been right to doubt?

How disappointed was Shiro going to be in a few minutes?

_"One dobosh for mark to window."_

Lance breathed in sharply at Pidge's voice over the comms, both his hands back on his bayard and now properly settling himself to wait for the mark, his body going still as he lined up his aim.

"Is the team in positions?" Shiro's voice was quiet but no less commanding, _secure,_ and Lance used it to ground himself.

Everyone but Lance echoed quick acknowledgements that they were ready to go and Hunk had something about a few sentries, but Lance tuned it out.

He couldn't fail Shiro's trust in him.

_He couldn't do it._

He could _not_ fail.

 _"Ten ticks for mark to window,"_ Pidge told them, and Lance's finger tensed minutely on the trigger.

The _fraction_ of a tick was all he would have.

He'd succeeded at worse shots.

_"Three, two, one-"_

At least the one team member he could hit was _behind_ him, so the flash of his nightmares of shooting Shiro were- _but it was_ Shiro _behind him, exactly the one he always dreamt he killed-_

The window below shattered, the noise only faintly audible over Keith's comms, who was situated near it. The shout of surprise from the Galra soldiers with the general was equally vague, but Keith's loud victorious _whoop_ was not, nearly deafening loud through the comms.

Lance blinked, unsure what had just happened, until Shiro's hand landed on his shoulder again, harder this time, squeezing much firmer, and when he glanced up in confusion Shiro was grinning proudly ear to ear.

"That's why we bring our sharpshooter, good job Lance."

… _he did it?_

Lance staggered to his feet, wide-eyed and only just remembering he was supposed to be breathing while Shiro used the grip on his shoulder to pull him into a tight hug.

"I'm so proud, I don't even know _how_ you do it."

"I-I did it," Lance echoed stupidly, before he slowly started smiling, _grinning,_ the realisation dawning on him. "I did it!"

Shiro was about to answer that, but Lance acted before his brain caught up with him, his arms flinging around Shiro's shoulders and pulling himself up to his face, lips landing hard on Shiro's with too much enthusiasm, too much victory - and damn but Shiro's lips were nice, so warm and only a little chapped, and - _oh quiznak-_

Lance let go and took a stumbling step back - _what had he done- what had he done-_

-but Shiro didn't let him get far, pulling him back to his chest almost immediately. Shiro looked flustered now, clearly taken off guard no less by that kiss than Lance had been, but to Lance's surprise he didn't look upset _at all._

"Maybe we should save _those_ celebrations for when we return to the Castle safe and sound, don't you think? We have a mission to finish first." Lance nodded stupidly, cursing how hot his face burned, and Shiro gave him one calculating look before grinning and pecking his lips, faster but sweeter than the clumsy kiss before. "I'll expect you to report in with me after the mission debriefing. Don't make me wait, we have a lot on the agenda."

 _"Less smooching, more clean-up and getting out of here,"_ Pidge shouted over the comms, and Lance would've felt betrayed by that and the calls of Hunk and Keith of 'really?' and 'finally!', but Shiro was still grinning at him so it was kinda hard to think negative thoughts.

"Come on, Sharpshooter. Let's finish this up and go home."

And blame the mush that was Lance's rational thought right now, but all he had for that in response was a breathy 'yes sir'.

He'd just have to work on that later.

 _After_ more celebratory kisses.

_Oh, Lance loved his life sometimes._

**Author's Note:**

> [Appreciate the arts in all their glory here!](https://twitter.com/rustdustshuffle/status/1261637279694458880)


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